


Comfort and Hope

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10x18 coda, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castiel in the Bunker, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mark of Cain, Men of Letters Bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3824791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It didn’t make any sense. </p><p>Just an hour ago, Dean ate pizza and laughed with his family who were, for once, all under the same roof. Cas and Charlie talked like they’d always known each other, and Dean felt pieces of him coming together. Though Sam was oddly subdued, Dean was happy. He hadn’t laughed that hard in ages. </p><p>It felt good. </p><p>But now in his bedroom, alone in the dark, Dean’s joy from earlier slipped away as it always did. That was the one constant in his life: happiness was fleeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort and Hope

**Author's Note:**

> A gift ficlet for [pop-culture-savvy-fallen-angel](http://pop-culture-savvy-fallen-angel.tumblr.com/) for being my 99th tumblr follower!
> 
> Her prompt: Dean gets really overwhelmed with the whole MOC business and stuff and he just breaks down and Cas finds him crying by himself and hurt/comforty things and fluff happens and it ends with Dean being tired out from it and sleepy and falls asleep on/against Cas-gotta love seeing your babies in pain

It didn’t make any sense. 

Just an hour ago, Dean ate pizza and laughed with his family who were, for once, all under the same roof. Cas and Charlie talked like they’d always known each other, and Dean felt pieces of him coming together. Though Sam was oddly subdued, Dean was happy. He hadn’t laughed that hard in ages. 

It felt good. 

But now in his bedroom, alone in the dark, Dean’s joy from earlier slipped away as it always did. That was the one constant in his life: happiness was fleeting. 

And tonight? Tonight was likely to never happen again. Charlie was leaving in the morning, Cas had his Grace back and would probably return to Heaven, and Sam…Sam was going to have to tie Dean up in the basement before his black eyes became permanent.

Under the covers, his head against the pillow, Dean reached up to grind the heels of his hands into his eyes. He pressed so hard that colors burst.  

Dean knew very well by now that life wasn’t fair and that he didn’t deserve squat. So why give him these moments of joy with his family? Was it to just rub them in his face when he was at his lowest? Were these brief times even worth it if he was just going to lose everything no matter what he did?

Because Dean was fighting a losing battle. He knew that. The ‘Book of the Damned’ had given him hope, stupidly, but now that was down the drain - as he should have expected.

And he was back to this. The Mark angry on his arm, the blood-lust swelling, his vision blurring to red. The Mark’s power was outside of him, yet at the same time, it was part of him. It latched on to his memories in the Pit, and the way the nightmares bled into reality, it was almost like he’d never left. Like Cas had never saved him. 

Sometimes, Dean wished Cas hadn’t.

Dean was just so tired.  _So_ tired. 

It went beyond physical fatigue - no, it went straight through his bones into his very soul. Dean was tired of pretending he was alright. He was tired of pretending that he was worth saving. He was tired of failing people, of not being good enough, of hurting those he loved. 

It would’ve been better for him to stay in the Pit. At least there, he didn’t have to pretend. He knew who he was - what he was - and he thrived in it. Now, he wanted to laugh at Cas insisting this wasn’t him, at Sam telling him he knew Dean was better than this, that he could fight this.

They were lying to themselves and they all knew it.

Dean’s breath hitched and hot tears pressed around the hands covering his eyes. They burned their way down his cheeks and disappeared into his pillow.

At least he’d had a taste of happiness. At least Dean’s family was safe, and Cas wasn’t dying anymore. Dean didn’t know what he would’ve done if Cas kicked the bucket before him. Hell, Dean probably wouldn’t have been able to hold the Mark back if Cas died. He would’ve gone on a rampage to avenge him and Heaven would never have recovered.

The Mark pulsed on his arm, pleased with these thoughts. Despite himself, Dean let out a little sob and added more pressure to his eyes, as if that would stop the tears. 

A soft knocked sounded on his door, but Dean didn’t trust his voice enough to speak and tell them to go away. He hoped they would leave if he lay still enough, but no such luck. 

“Dean?” Cas pushed inside and gently closed the door behind him. It was too dark for Dean to make out anything more than his silhouette.

“Dean, are you alright?”

Everything inside him screamed for Dean to say that he wasn’t, to seek comfort. But he couldn’t do that to Cas. 

“I’m-” he tried, but that was as far as he made it. His voice broke, and the sobs poured out of him. Dean curled into a ball and felt a slight dip on his bed as Cas sat beside him. He didn’t want Cas to see him like this, but he couldn’t move. Instead, he allowed Cas to position them until Cas leaned against the headboard, with Dean on his stomach and his head in Cas's lap.

Cas stroked fingers through Dean’s hair, and that small gesture had Dean barely able to breathe he was crying so hard. Cas, thankfully, seemed to know that Dean didn’t want words, so he kept up his ministrations until Dean quieted. 

Dean’s head ached and he trembled, but he didn’t tell Cas to leave.

“Dean,” Cas began, his voice soft. “I know you’re-”

“Don’t,” Dean interrupted. He couldn’t deal with a pep talk, and he couldn’t handle false optimism right now. 

So they sat in silence. Dean couldn’t fight his exhaustion and sagged completely into Cas, who made no complaint. But hey, he was juiced up again so Dean’s weight probably felt like nothing. 

“Glad you got your mojo back,” Dean mumbled. 

“Mmm,” Cas hummed thoughtfully. He said nothing else, and Dean closed his tired, puffy eyes. 

“Thanks,” he said a moment later. Cas didn’t voice a response. Instead, he carded fingers through Dean’s hair again, and trailed his other hand to Dean’s back where he rubbed in gentle circles. Dean felt himself losing consciousness and wanted to tell Cas he was fine now, but he was too far asleep. He drifted off and the last thing he remembered - or perhaps imagined - were lips pressed to the top of his head. 

When Dean awoke, it was to find himself in the same position as the night before - Cas beneath him, his hands warm as he smoothed them along Dean’s back and arms. 

“Good morning,” Cas said. 

It was true. Hours had passed and Dean felt  _rested_  for the first time in ages. He sat up blearily, not sure if he should be embarrassed. 

“Morning,” he said gruffly. His eyes locked on one of Cas’s hands, which he had withdrawn to his lap. Dean reached out to grab it, amazed by the object that delivered so much comfort. His heart pounded in his chest as Dean entwined their fingers.

When he lifted his eyes to meet Cas’s, he was overcome by the emotion in the angel’s gaze. He knew what it was - he’d always known - but it hit him, suddenly, just what it could mean. Cas wasn’t dying anymore. That meant the only problem left to fix was the Mark. 

Once that was gone…

“Dean?” Cas cocked his head, his brows drawn in concern. 

Dean couldn’t speak, not yet. He squeezed Cas’s hand, and when Cas’s lips lifted in a tentative smile, Dean mirrored it. 

They would figure it out. They always did. 

They would be okay. 


End file.
